Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop
by mockingjayne
Summary: "There, behind the counter, was a woman fumbling with cups, her eyes as wide as a doe caught in the middle of the road, car barreling towards her. Her raven hair was falling out of its long ponytail, cascading around her face in disarrayed tendrils."


Kurt weaves in between the people on the heavily populated New York street. The bustle of the Monday morning crowd, dragging their feet to work after an exhausting weekend, or hurriedly rushing past him, because they were late. He was of the latter group that morning, though given that he was the head of his task force, he figured he had a little bit of leniency when it came to his arrival time.

His weekend had been stressful. What had once been two days of downtime, in which he'd spend all of his time pouring over cases (or one case in particular) and essentially working even when not on the clock, had been stripped away from him upon the arrival of his sister and nephew into his life. Having recently moved to the city, leaving her life in Pennsylvania behind, the wounds of a bad breakup still fresh when she showed up at his door, the offer for her to stay was almost immediate from Kurt. He never could say no to his little sister, feeling a sense of protectiveness over her as the big brother, especially after what had happened to his childhood friend, on his watch, nonetheless. Plus, it would give him time to really get to know Sawyer, his only nephew.

He'd stopped trying to make his way back home a long time ago, content to letter bitter anger, resentment and suspicion win over, instead, opting for Sarah and Sawyer to come visit him. However, with a busy work schedule that never seemed to let up, his time was limited, and what really mattered seemed to fall to the wayside more often than not. Something that Sarah never let him forget. If last night had been any indication of the weeks to come with his sister's nosy habit, he could be prepared to be peppered with questions about his non-existent love life, and his lack of friends, given that the only people he really associated with were his team, and they weren't exactly friendly in the let's-grab-a-beer-together type way. Although he was respected by his colleagues, and they trusted him with their lives on the daily, he wasn't the most approachable guy, and his personal life remained a bit of a mystery to them. Though the puzzle that was Kurt could easily be figured out with just a few context clues - the most obvious being the bags underneath his eyes, countless sleepless nights spent working into the early hours of the morning, subconsciously pushing his loneliness to the back of his mind, content in thinking that this was all he needed - the knowledge that he was saving lives, helping people. All the while, the little girl that he couldn't save lingering in the back of his mind.

But he had his family with him now. Or at least the only family he wanted with him.

Something he was not likely to forget all that soon, given he'd woken up this morning to the guilty face of Sarah, the coffee machine steaming and beeping in protest of an unauthorized handler having broken it. She'd profusely apologized, before offering to go out and buy a new one. He'd gritted his teeth, silently counting to ten, before shaking his head, the ache already settling in, warning him that today was not off to a good start.

And so he fought through the crowd of people, to the closest coffee shop to work, pulling the door open to the family owned establishment. It was a small space, holding maybe fifty people, at the most. And it seemed today, it was at all full capacity.

He sighed heavily, mumbling under his breath about being late, as he took his place at the back of the queue.

Pulling out his phone, he checks his messages, only finding one from Sarah, more apologies. He types a quick response, assuring her that it everything's fine, they're fine, before putting his phone back in his pocket.

Looking around he notices several photos of the city scape adorning the exposed brick walls, and several mismatched colorful couches intermixed with the wooden tables. It gave off a home-y feel. The kind of place you curl up by the fire by in the winter with a good book. Or at least he thought it looked like a good place to do so, he wouldn't really know much about relaxing.

Glancing at his watch, several minutes had passed, and still he remained in the exact same place as before. He careened his neck around the other people, attempting to see what the hold up could possibly be. There was even had a moment where he contemplated whipping out his badge, cutting everyone, demanding his caffeinated emergency be reason enough to misuse his status. But thought better of it.

As he peers up the line, fifteen or so people ahead of him, he catches sight of why they were at a standstill. There, behind the counter, was a woman fumbling with cups, her eyes as wide as a doe caught in the middle of the road, car barreling towards her. Her raven hair was falling out of its long ponytail, cascading around her face in disarrayed tendrils. And a man at the front of the line, red in the face, as he argued with the poor woman.

Kurt felt his fists clench, a wave of protectiveness washing over him at the sight of this employee being berated by an angry New Yorker, as if it was their right as a paying customer to inflict their critique and dissatisfaction onto the staff. The lack of concern present from every other customer in line, as they seemed to be more frustrated about having to wait in line rather than recognize that this woman was being put through the ringer for a mistake involving something probably as trivial and unimportant as a drink.

He moves to make his way to the front of the line, just as another employee, rests his hand on the woman's back, excusing her from the confrontation before quietly diffusing the situation - appeasing the ranting customer, likely with a free drink. Kurt huffs in annoyance as the sense of entitlement of some people, this jerk's temper tantrum only rewarded and encouraged to happen again the next time he's not satisfied, by giving into his demands.

The man, with brown hair and a matching set of eyes, passes him with a smug look, and Kurt wants nothing more than to knock his teeth in. Staring him down, the man's smile only widens, as he confidently walks out of the shop, looking back at the intimidating man with the piercing blue eyes.

Glancing back up to the front, the woman has disappeared, the man who relieved her now taking orders and knocking them out quickly and efficiently. Before he knows it, he's one person back in line - digging his wallet out of his pocket, he loses grip and it falls for the floor. Bending down to pick it up, he stands up, only to come face to face with a set of emerald eyes piercing into him.

He finds himself staring, his mouth hanging slightly open, silence ringing out out of him, as a cacophony of noises surround them. The contrast of her dark hair falling in waves against her expressive light eyes, have them swirling like a green sea, enticing him further into her hold.

It's only when he hears a cough behind him, that he breaks his focus to find her shyly biting her lip, a slight blush blooming on her cheeks.

"How can I help you, sir?" She asks, with a nervous lilt to her voice.

"Umm," he struggles for the words, finding himself distracted by something new about her every time he tries to make out a response. The small freckle in her eye, casting a golden fleck to the emerald. The sting of red her lips appear from having bitten them.

Another impatient cough behind him rings out.

"Coffee. Black," he finally gets out.

"Anything else?"

He scans the display case, debating on buying something else just to get to stand up here a little longer with her.

"Blueberry muffin," he says, not able to rip anything more coherent from his foggy brain than an order.

Her face falls at his request, and he can't help but have a fleeting moment where he wants nothing more than to ensure she never has to make that face again.

"I'm sorry, we just ran out," she quickly apologizes, bracing herself for his reaction. He's sure she's expecting some kind of confrontation like the one she just had, but her eyes are alight with a spark, almost as if waiting for him to catch on.

He smiles, in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture. "That's okay. Just the coffee is fine."

Her shy smile returns, as she nods, takes his money, and gives him his coffee.

"Thank you…" he starts, looking at her name tag for the first time. "Jane."

She startles, almost surprised that someone has addressed her by name, before tracing his line of sight to the name tag prominently displayed on her chest.

Her blush comes back, framing her face, as she looks down, before glancing back up and almost whispering. "You're welcome." And then as if remembering where she was and what she was supposed to be doing, she says a bit louder, Thank you, come back, again."

Of that he was sure of.

xxxxxx

The next morning, he's up before his alarm clock, staring at the white ceiling. Ever since his encounter with Jane at the coffee shop, he can't seem to get her off his mind.

 _Jane. Jane. Jane._

The more her says her name in his head, the more entranced he becomes.

He snorts to himself. _Plain Jane. Nothing could be further from the truth._

That disposable coffee cup having been the object of his gaze more times than he could count yesterday. Even after he'd finished, he'd had a hard time throwing it away.

He realizes on a rational level how insane he sounds. That becoming one of those male customers who thinks that a woman is into him simply because she was doing her job.

And that's all she was doing, Kurt. Her job. You were the one who was a creep. Probably scared her more than the guy who yelled at her.

Reasons for why he should not be thinking about her have crossed his mind since he left. He finds himself mentally slapping himself out of the stupor she'd left him in more than a few times. But then when he paid the delivery guy last night, upon Sawyer's request for pizza, the money being exchanged reminded him of the color of her eyes, except her eyes were much richer, a different shade altogether, but green. Green. Green.

Groaning to himself, he rolls out of bed and gets ready for the day - attempting to push Jane back to the place in his mind where all his other distractions go to disappear. He resigns himself to resorting back to his normal setting - the guy who consumes himself in work, and who certainly doesn't have the time to worry himself with complications like relationships and women he's probably never going to see again.

Making his way to the kitchen, he finds Sarah removing a new coffee maker from the box.

"Look Kurt, I got you a new one!" Her excitement is palpable and he can't help but smile with a shake of his head. "I umm, didn't think about opening it last night so you could actually have coffee this morning. Shit."

Sawyer's head pops up from the counter.

"Shit. I mean. Shoot. Shoot. Don't repeat that," she warns her son.

Kurt ruffles the boy's hair, miming the crazy sign about Sarah, making the boy laugh.

"It's fine, Sarah. I'll grab something on the way to work." He thinks it comes out calmly enough, not alerting Sarah to anything out of the normal, but on the inside, he's conflicted with a both a jolt of adrenaline at the thought of seeing her again, and an internal groan at his severe lack of control when it comes to her.

xxxxxx

Making his way into the same coffee shop, he feels his stomach knot a little bit, the nerves kicking in. If he didn't know he better, he'd swear it was those damn butterflies everyone seems to speak of, but he's never experienced those before and he's not likely to start at age 35.

Shaking his head, hoping to clear his mind, maybe knock some sense into the fog that was his mind lately, he notices that the shop is significantly less crowded today as he stands in line. Instead of 15 people waiting today, there are four.

He tries not to make it obvious as he scans the room for her, but he can feel his heart drop just a little when he realizes that she's nowhere to be seen. The man who had taken over for her yesterday was taking orders today, and knocking them out quickly. Before he knows it, he has his coffee in hand and is meandering his way, slowly, to the door to leave, holding out hope that maybe, she'd show up unexpectedly. But as he reaches the door, he knows that he's not going to see her today. And likely won't see her again with a new coffee machine awaiting him at home.

With a deep sigh, he pushes the door open, and walks out with a defeated look.

xxxxxxx

Several weeks have passed since he started drinking coffee from home and the questionably bad stuff from the office, again. He's tried to maintain as much of his old routine as possible, what with his sister and nephew still living with him. His days remain the same, quiet focus, leading to cases closed, people safe, and a team that trusts him with their life.

It's his nights that have seemed to taken the biggest hit when it came to life changes, as he not only finds that he can no longer bring his work home, at least not until after they go to sleep. Family time has become something of a necessity, and he finds that it's something he actually looked forward to, not having felt like he had a family since the night his best friend had been taken from him.

And then once they've turned off the last light and he's told Sawyer several stories before his eyes close, he crawls into his lonely bed by himself. That's when he brings out his case files, attempting to distract himself. Pouring over every detail that he had long since memorized about the little girl who vanished. The only suspect, his father. But with no body, no evidence, and no motive, the case had turned cold rather quickly, especially when the town had all but held it's own trial, of the societal variety, sentencing his father to a lifetime of judgment and dirty looks for the crime no one else would dare have committed.

He fights off sleep for as long as he can.

Because he knows what happens otherwise.

Before, his nightmares always consisted of the same thing - various scenarios in which Taylor was put into danger, and he was unable to save her. Sometimes it was a hyperbolized version of what likely happened to her, and sometimes she took the form of his most recent case victims. However, instead of having saved the day, he was doomed to relive over and over again, losing her. Always different, yet always the same.

She was gone from him. Forever.

Except lately, there had been a new star of his nightmares. This time, the woman he'd briefly met at the coffee shop. He'd done his best to forget about her, and for the most part, he'd done a good job - he no longer debated with himself going into the shop to just to catch a glimpse of her, after all. Nor did everything remind him of her anymore. He was moving on, trying to keep his laser focus on things he could be objective about. Cold hard facts. Less emotions. However, his subconscious didn't seem to agree.

Now, his nightmares seemed to intermix Jane and Taylor as one. She'd start out as a little girl, and suddenly morph into the woman, her emerald eyes shining with tears, begging him to find her, to save her. But she was always just right out of his gasp. Like he was reaching out, brushing her cheek, only for her to slip right through his fingers, like sand.

xxxxxx

He was almost thankful for the distraction of a mission out of state. His mind always seemed to wander less when he had a case to focus on, a team to look out for, an objective to achieve.

This time they'd sent him to Kentucky to apprehend a man, who liked to chain his women up, and wait for intruders with his heavy machinery.

It hadn't been the first time they'd gone up against someone as insane as this man, in fact he ranked pretty low on the level of crazy they'd dealt with. Quick wit and tactical progress were specialities of his team, working like a well oiled machine, with him the lead.

They had successfully pulled off the mission after what could've been a rather close call. The perpetuators had been apprehended, the women were being escorted into ambulances to be looked after. Overall, it had been a success. Another job well done.

It was just around the time that he'd planned to head back, maybe pour himself a stiff one, and let himself settle, putting another case to bed. Because for as much as he played the tough guy, these missions took a little bit out of him, especially when involving women and children, her face always flickering in his peripheral. Every victim saved, a shred of hope playing in the back of his mind that one day, it could be Taylor. It was around the time that his mind dredged up that hope, that he got the call. They needed him. In New York.

Now.

xxxxxxx

They'd given him very little details to go on, just that something was going down and he needed to be there. He makes his way through the dimly lit hallways, on a floor that he'd very rarely visited. Guards stood at every corner, a precaution usually only taken when a big time criminal was in house.

Turning the corner, he finds Mayfair standing with a man in a white coat, quietly speaking to each other. Upon hearing him approach, they look up.

"Borden, this is Special Agent Kurt Weller," she introduces him.

"Oh wow, you're uhh…" he stumbles over his words, shock present on his face.

Kurt's face turns to one of confusion, not sure why this man is so surprised to see him, or rather why he even knows who he is.

As Mayfair speaks, Borden continues to eye Kurt wearily, almost as if he's not positive he's even really standing in front of him. The level of awe on his face not even the least bit concealed.

"Come with me, Weller," she motions with her hand, leaving the doctor behind. Kurt glances back, the doctor still gaping at him even as he goes.

They approach a small, crisscrossed window, several men, hover around something…someone, sitting on the table. Waiting, tensely, for their moment to pounce if the unidentified person moves even an inch.

He squints, trying to get a better look into the dark room, lit by only a solitary light hanging above the subject.

"Do you recognize her?" Mayfair asks.

Kurt stares dumbfounded, not really seeing anything, but a circle of men. She knocks on the window, alerting them of their presence. And the men disperse, grabbing a woman by her arms, turning her around, revealing what was once alabaster skin, now fully covered in tattoos. The most prominent one being his name, in big, bold letters right in between her shoulder blades.

She looks over her back, a dazed expression on her face, like she'd been drugged.

And he gasps. Stepping back, before moving forward, squinting in the dim lit, convinced his eyes are deceiving him.

Because standing in front of him is her. The woman. The one with the emerald eyes that have haunted him for weeks, except now her raven hair has been cut short, and a trail of tattoos litter every inch of her body, his name emblazoned across her back for all to see.

"So why is your name tattooed on her back?"

xxxxxx

AN: This started out as a very different story. The inspiration came in the form of a woman visiting a coffee shop every day, asking for the same thing, that they didn't have, only to have the barista go out and specifically get the product just for her. And somehow it turned into this. Haha I couldn't even tell you how that happened. But hopefully, you all enjoyed. I'm really excited for this one, so let me know what you think!


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